


Remnants

by Siver



Series: Final Fantasy VI/Ghost Trick [6]
Category: Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, FFVI GT AU, Final Fantasy VI AU, Gen, Multi, implied alma/cabanela/jowd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 12:12:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16743772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siver/pseuds/Siver
Summary: FFVI AU.Cabanela and Cidgeon find land at last and set out in search of the others in general and Jowd in particular.Further context provided in series notes.





	Remnants

Cabanela dreamed.

_Lights glimmered. The buzz of voices, laughter and music filled the room. Alma’s hand rested in his as they waltzed across the floor and spun round the other nobility._

_His hand was covered in Jowd’s and the man needed to stop the jokes. His dancing was peeerfectly fine with him and everything was right._

_The three stood on the balcony, drinks in hand while the sands stretched out before them, eternal as they would be…_

“Cabanela.”

Cabanela squinted. He was on his side, head pillowed in his arm. Something felt different and it took him a few seconds to realize the absence of movement. He turned over. Their raft had come to a stop and Cidgeon knelt next to him. He sat up. They’d landed… somewhere. It wasn’t much of a shoreline and the land stretched out vast, flat and unrecognizable before them.

Closer at hand were the remnants of their dwindled supplies already unloaded off the raft.

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”

Cidgeon rose with a snort and left the raft. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how many of my watches had company.”

Cabanela also rose to join him, taking a moment to catch his balance on solid unmoving land. The shore line was ragged, but in the distance across the water, Cabanela caught sight of what looked to be buildings. A port town? This was wrong for South Figaro and didn’t seem right for Nikeah either. He knew the area around Albrook and this… wasn’t it, was it?

“Where aaare we?”

“No idea,” Cidgeon replied. He shrugged and nodded toward the town off in the distance. “We may as well find out.”

“You got it, professor.”

They gathered their supplies and set off. The ground was as rugged and withered as the island they left, looking no better for the perpetual sunset they seemed to be under. Dry dirt cracked underfoot. The occasional tuft of brown or yellowed grass could be seen. No, this was worse than the island. Cidgeon had at least been able to tease out some plant life, with growing difficulty, but it was something. Cabanela had never seen anywhere look so deadened.

But, they found land, he told himself, and there was civilization not far off. He forced away the small nagging thought: if there was anyone alive there. He put a spring into his step, which if he was honest, was more for himself than Cidgeon, as the professor merely trudged on while Lovey-Dove rode low on her usual perch. If he was bothered, he gave no sign. Cabanela tried humming the first song he could think of, but the sound seemed to trail listlessly into the air and he faded out.

As they drew closer to the town a slow realization grew more pointed and more unsettling. The shapes and silhouettes of the town were familiar, but nothing else was. His attention kept wandering toward the ocean where the shapes of small islands, he supposed, could be seen. This couldn’t be right. His knowledge of all things nautical was limited to his experience as a passenger on his many trips to Figaro, but even he was certain no ship would dare navigate through that.

He turned his attention inland to the plains if such they could be called. Not the land he knew at all. This had to be elsewhere, but as they approached there was no doubt.

“Albrook,” he breathed.

“Looks like it,” Cidgeon replied.

“But this can’t be right.” What had he _done?_

Cidgeon’s mouth was a thin line. “This isn’t the world we knew.”

Cabanela struggled to maintain control over his voice as the sheer weight of what he saw, or didn’t see, settled in with an unfamiliar feeling of panic. “Where are the mountains?”

Mountains used to ring the middle of the continent. The sight of them were always the first thing to greet him when he returned home. There would be the pass and in the centre, Vector. How could they just be… gone?

Did Vector still exist? There was no way to know for sure. There was, however, something tall and dark far off in the distance, some sort of tower.

Cidgeon looked up at him, expression grim. “We’ll get more information in town. Figure out what’s been happening this past year. It’s best if we make no assumptions from now on.”

Cabanela gripped the cloth in his pocket and he nodded. “Riiight, let’s go.” They had the others to find. That’s what truly mattered here, ruined world or not. One step at a time, feet forward. There was nothing else to be done.

 

The town was Albrook, buildings damaged in places, and with more cracks in the streets, but Cabanela had passed through it more than enough times to immediately recognize it. What was unfamiliar was the subdued air. The usual hustle and bustle about the place was missing and the distant sounds of the docks were absent. The townsfolk went about their business, but many had their heads down and there was a sense of hurrying to get what needed to be done and nothing more.

As they passed through the street, Cabanela’s gaze caught on a woman exiting a building. She stopped dead, gasped and immediately whirled around and re-entered, slamming the door behind her. A man shrunk back, bowing his head and averting his gaze. A cry suddenly sounded.

“It’s him!”

They stopped. Cabanela sought out the source and spotted a man with a quivering hand outstretched.

“Please! We haven’t done anything. A-anything you want, but spare us, please.”

“We may have made a mistake already,” Cidgeon muttered.

“You!” Another man leapt into the street, brandishing a knife. “My brother was in Mobliz, you bastard!”

“Stop!” Cidgeon ordered. “He’s not who you think.”

He started to step in front of Cabanela, but Cabanela took his arm and pulled him back, so he could step forward instead. Bystanders parted, fading into the background with low fearful murmurs.

“I’m not him. I’d suggeeest you stand down.” He murmured a word, carefully gathering the magic to him.

The man was wild-eyed and furiously waved his knife. “Lies! I don’t care if you think you’re a god or what! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you myself and save our world! I’ll avenge my brother!”

A hush fell. The man lunged at Cabanela and crumpled at his feet as Cabanela breathed out the last of a sleep spell.

“He’s killed him!” someone shrieked. “It really is him!”

“Enough!” Cidgeon barked. “He’s only asleep. Someone get this man inside.” He looked up at Cabanela. “We’re not going to get anywhere at this rate,” he said in a low voice. “I think it’s best if you leave and let me finish here.”

“Bit laaate now, professor.”

Cidgeon looked around at the man still on the ground and the unmoving townsfolk and sighed. “At least get him off the street,” he said to them and returned his attention to Cabanela. “Go. You’re scaring everyone. I’ll manage.”

“They’ve already seen you with me. I’m not leaving you alone.”

“Now, boy.”

Cabanela scowled at him. Cidgeon appeared unfazed. Cabanela looked past him to the townsfolk. A woman stepped in front of her child as his gaze crossed over them. No one had yet made a move to help the sleeping man.

He abruptly turned on his heel. “Don’t take too long, or I’ll be comin’ right back in to find you.”

“Get on with you.”

Cabanela strode away back toward the town entrance, eyes fixed forward until he reached it. Only then did he glance back toward Cidgeon. The man was finally being dragged away. A woman spoke with Cidgeon. Cabanela realized he was gripping his blade hilt. If he was attacked, so be it, but if anyone so much as dared lay a finger on the professor… He forced himself to focus. By the woman’s posture she seemed passive, possibly worried. And the professor was more than capable of taking care of himself.

He relaxed his grip and slipped out. Maybe the professor was right. It didn’t make it any better.

 

This was Albrook, but… Cabanela stared across the land as if the mountain ranges he once knew would reappear if he willed it hard enough. They knew the world had changed. He hadn’t expected it to be this drastic. All that lay in sight was the dark tower far off in the distance. The mountains were gone. Vector was possibly gone.

He paced. If the land hadn’t completely changed, Tzen would be to the north. It seemed as good a next stop as any if the professor didn’t find anything more substantial.

And what then? Clearly the Jester was still alive and well known.

_‘My brother was in Mobliz…’_

What had he done? Was it the world splitting apart? Or was it something more? It felt like more.

The people’s fear couldn’t be clearer. And how could he blame them? How could he when he felt as though he looked in a mirror the first time he revealed himself? His voice sliding to his own as he removed the mask. _‘Hello, my puuuppet.’_ Face to face with himself.

How could he when even Jowd and Alma… he took a slow steadying breath.

This was only another obstacle, nothing more. Merely one more thing to deal with. The Jester’s survival was no surprise after all—he’d expected it, hadn’t he?

He stopped and dropped to the ground to sit, knees bent. He could hardly avoid every town, but he could cover himself. Mask his face in some way. He shuddered as the memory of the Jester’s mask rose again. Masks, masks, masks, he seemed doomed to them.

Puppet. A masked puppet was all he had been.

Masks in those tubes, cracked, distorted, yet terribly familiar somehow at the time. Well, he learned the reason for that soon enough, after he took himself, both of his selves, ha, out of the Magitek Facility.

He restlessly ran a hand across the ground. What little dirt he picked up fell through his fingers in a wisp of dust. Day after day on that dreary island. An unknown amount of time on the ocean and all to find that things were even worse than they’d imagined. He missed the grass, the mountains, and the breeze coming off the ocean. When was it ever this still?

When they set off again, what would they find left? Was anything left of Vector? And what of Tzen? Maranda? The professor said not to make assumptions. Wise words.

He glanced back toward Albrook as the thought of the professor brought about a different seed of worry he had to crush. It would take time for Cidgeon to gather both supplies and information. There was no need for concern yet.

He waited and tried to steer his thoughts away from gloomier matters as time passed. And that was another unpleasant fact of this world of theirs. Nothing seemed to change, an endless sunset only broken by dark cold nights and time’s passing grew difficult to judge. That wasn’t entirely new; maybe one day he would grow used to feeling disconnected from time.

He rose to his feet in a sudden burst of restlessness, casting looks back at Albrook with increasing frequency, until finally, just as he started to think about going in after all, he spotted Cidgeon’s approach.

“Theeere you are.”

Cidgeon stopped by him. He carried a bundle. “We’re going to have to be careful. I couldn’t get a lot.”

“We’ll manage,” Cabanela said. “You were gooone for a while. Did you find anything out?”

“A few things,” Cidgeon said. “The Jester is still alive and playing god. He wiped out Mobliz.” A note of disgust entered his voice. “So-called ‘Light of Judgment’.”

“I seee…” And that explained the man. He hesitated then, “Have there been others?”

“I don’t know.” Cidgeon’s eyes narrowed. “And that’s not your responsibility.”

“What of Vector?”

“Gone. Apparently destroyed that day.”

Cabanela nodded, chest tightening. Not as hoped, but not entirely unexpected either.

Cidgeon jerked his head toward the tower. “They say that was formed the day the world was destroyed. Made up of debris and the gods know what else. I’d imagine there’s a few good chunks of Vector in there. The Jester’s Tower, hideous, ain’t it?”

Cabanela stared at the tower and before he knew it or could stop himself he started laughing.

Cidgeon raised an eyebrow. “Don’t start cracking yet,” he said.

Cabanela shook his head with a quieter chuckle. Maybe he was edging on hysterical, maybe not, but it was relieving in a strange way.

“You’re not wrooong, prof! Looks like our tastes differ at least.”

Cidgeon shook his head with a frown. “While we’re on that topic, here,” he said and tossed a bundle at him that resolved itself into a long cloak. “This is the longest I could find. If you put that scarf of yours to use, you’ll only look suspicious instead of murderous.”

And there it was. Hardly ideal, but better than some possibilities. Still, Cabanela eyed the coarse dull fabric—not exactly to his taste. _Better than the mask, better than that._

“Don’t give it that look. You’re a recognizable figure, especially if he’s been flaunting about with your usual flair.” Cidgeon gave a derisive snort. “Light of Judgment, indeed.”

“It’ll do,” Cabanela conceded. “For nooow.”

“One more thing. Now don’t be getting your hopes up, but there was a talk of an odd man who passed through recently on his way to Tzen. From some of the descriptions it’s possible it could be Jowd.”

Cabanela’s attention snapped to him. “Why didn’t you say so earlier? Let’s go!”

“Possible,” Cidgeon repeated pointedly. “It could easily be someone else.”

“We won’t know until we go and there’s no point standin’ around here!”

He helped Cidgeon divvy up their supplies between them. Cidgeon was right about having to be careful, but they would make it. Nothing else was conceivable.

 

They set off. After a time Cabanela found himself throwing the occasional glance back to make sure they were making progress. He knew they were, but with the unchanging landscape and lack of recognizable landmarks it felt as if they were going nowhere and the tower, the only marker they had, felt eternally far away.

More than once, he thought he caught sight of some unknown creature in the corner of his eye, but it disappeared before he could get a proper look at it. If he didn’t know any better he would wonder if he imagined it, as lifeless as the land seemed.

At least one didn’t stay unknown when a large and ragged bird-like creature swooped at them in an attack. Cabanela knocked Cidgeon aside out of its path and flung lightning at it. A piercing shriek cut through the air, but a deluge of water from Cidgeon finished the creature off.

“Looks like we’ve got some monsters about,” Cidgeon said.

“Are you all riiiight?”

“I’m fine, but we better not linger.”

They travelled quietly, taking shorts stops as needed, but pressing ever on, until Cabanela noticed Cidgeon starting to flag. An ache crawled through his own limbs; the island and raft had done him no favours, but he kept it to himself. He would press on as long as it took, but not at the professor’s expense.

“Why don’t we stop heeere for now?” Cabanela asked.

Cidgeon glanced up at the sky. “Hmph, call it a night eh?”

They sat close and shared a small amount of food. Cidgeon fell asleep shortly after, Lovey-Dove nestled in the crook of his arm. Cabanela stared at the waiting land. Maybe the tower was closer. He wondered how far off course they should go to avoid it. Getting too near would likely be dangerous and he had little desire to see it up close. As long as the Jester was there, that time would come, but not yet.

If he hadn’t lost track of their distance and time completely and if they could keep up this pace they would reach… whatever was left of Vector sometime late tomorrow, if tomorrow it was. If not then, then surely the day after and he grimaced at his own uncertainty. He crossed this area so many times, but he’d never know it now.

Sleep must have caught up eventually because the next thing he knew Cidgeon was nudging him awake and they soon set off once more.

In silent agreement they changed course, making an attempt to veer around the tower that slowly grew closer. Hours passed with more quick breaks. As they progressed the shadow of the tower stretched out over them despite their efforts to pass it by.

Cabanela shifted and rolled his shoulders. It was too early for nightfall, yet he was certain it had grown dimmer. His skin prickled as if with fever. The air felt cold, thick and heavy—more difficult to breathe.

Cidgeon slowed and looked up at him, the lines in his face seeming deeper. “Do you feel that?”

“Magic,” Cabanela said slowly. “There’s so much. Does it feel wrong to you?”

“Yeah.”

“Reminds me of the Floating Continent.” Cabanela stared at the tower. Industrial, unnatural, warped as if it didn’t quite fit in this reality somehow. The sooner they got away the better.

He turned his attention back to Cidgeon and his worry grew at the sight. There was a grey cast to his face and he seemed more shrunk in on himself.

“Are you okay to keep going?”

“Do you want to stick around in this?”

Cabanela smiled faintly. As long as his tone remained that sharp, he needn’t worry as much.

Lovey-Dove gave a soft mournful coo. Cidgeon held out a hand. She fluttered down to it and he pulled her in, holding her close.

“Let’s get our lady bird out then, shaaall we?” Cabanela said and they pressed on.

Their pace was slow. Even still Cabanela was certain they should have reached where Vector was by now and there was nothing. He thought there would be remnants, but it was as if it had been completely wiped away like it never existed.

Nearly. The tower drew his gaze again. There was a look to it that was reminiscent of Vector. Was the professor right in saying something of Vector was drawn into the tower? One of them kept something of their home. A home. When did he last truly think of Vector as home?

He turned his gaze forward. He felt heavy enough without such thoughts. A deep weariness laced around his muscles and his side twinged painfully. There was a nagging and unsettling temptation to stop right here and just sleep. He pushed it aside. One foot in front of the other. Keep an eye on the professor. If he could focus on him he could ignore his own pain.

The professor had drawn closer to him and he realized the attention was mutual, but he would be fine. Always was.

Slowly, slowly their world brightened again in as much as it ever did and breath came more easily. The tower was behind them. They pushed forward a bit more to put as much distance between themselves and it before stopping for another sleep.

They shared a silent meal, too spent to say much. Cidgeon’s shoulders slumped and Cabanela felt some relief when he fell asleep, curled up with Lovey-Dove under his cloak.

As for himself, Cabanela lay back, but a restlessness came over him despite the ache through his body and the dull pain in his head. In some ways he felt as though he’d just woken up in the cell in Vector all over again, ready to try for Jowd again. Or the first morning in Figaro after learning how wrong everything had truly gone. Or again from the coma to this new wreck of a world. Again, again, again.

He stretched his legs in an effort to alleviate the aches and find some comfort. Off balance, that’s what he felt and felt for far too long, like a rug pulled out from under him. Even Vector was gone and how long had it been since he’d even think to consider it an anchor?

At one time he did sometimes miss Vector while away. Then he grew to hate it and what it had become. What it had caused. If he left forever what was there to really miss?

He did miss it. He missed the ins and outs of the city he knew best. He missed the way the lights would reflect and dance off the streets at night. He missed the tavern and its insatiable keeper who always filled him with the latest gossip on his returns. Even the factories would be a relief to see over this.

He turned over, pulling his cloak tighter around him. It was gone. Some of those facilities were no loss. Maybe people were able to escape. Small comforts. He’d take them.

His hand drifted back to Jowd’s cloth. He held it close and let his eyes close for whatever sleep might come. He alternated between dozing fitfully in a jumble of confused dreams and waking to scattered thoughts until they finally rose again to continue.

Two more whatever passed for days passed and at last Tzen lay before them. Cabanela smiled.

“Heeere we are, professor!” And if there was any kindness left in this world, here, he hoped was Jowd or at the very least word of him.

He lifted his scarf with a soft sigh. And here was also their first test. Cidgeon watched quietly as he wrapped the scarf around his face and pulled his hood low. Among Cabanela’s first thoughts when he was done was that the sooner he could remove it the better. He would need to figure out something better and more comfortable soon.

“Weeell?” he asked, voice muffled.

Cidgeon’s mouth twisted, out of distaste or faint amusement, Cabanela couldn’t say. Knowing him, probably both.

“Terrible,” Cidgeon said. “Which for you is a good thing. It’ll do. Ready to go?”

“Of couuurse.”

 

Tzen, much like Albrook, held a subdued air. Unlike Albrook there wasn’t much time to dwell on it.

As they started down the street, a blinding flash lit the area. The ground rumbled and a terrible crack split the air.

“The Light of Judgment!” someone yelled.

People started to run toward the other end of the town. Cabanela and Cidgeon exchanged a nod and hurried after.

“The house!” someone else cried out.

“I saw monsters!” came another shout.

Ahead a large house shuddered and part of the roof buckled. It looked to collapse at any moment, but that wasn’t what caught Cabanela’s attention.

He nearly tripped in his abrupt stop. Of all places… but there he was, braced against the wall. 

“Jowd!”

Jowd looked up, stared in confusion at Cabanela but then his eyes slid to Cidgeon who just caught up.

“Cidgeon. Afraid you picked a bad time to come.”

“What are you doing? That building’s about to come down,” Cidgeon said.

Cabanela stared as the horrible realization sunk in. And the only thing keeping the house from doing so right now was…

“There’s still a kid inside,” Jowd said, voice strained.

No time for hesitation. Cabanela hurtled into the building, ignoring whatever it was the professor called out behind him.

He entered into a room with another door across from him. The walls groaned under the strain. He ran forward, keeping a hand close to his blade. If the frantic talk was to be believed there would be monsters and he’d have to watch his spells in a space this enclosed and already in danger of collapsing any minute.

The door led to a small room opening into a long hall. With no sign of the child, Cabanela sped into the hall past one door—a quick look inside revealed a bedroom and no child—then another door. He made to open it and jumped back as the air wavered and a wraith materialized.

He choked back the instinctive lightning spell to switch to the cure magic that would be far more effective against such a creature without the risk. The thing shrieked before breaking apart into wisps of something like smoke and fading, but Cabanela paid it only the barest attention as he ran into the room.

He was met with stairs down and he flung himself down them, feeling a tremor pass through the building. A brief image of the building collapsing and Jowd trapped underneath passed through his mind and he shook it away.

He was met with another hall and stairs up to a raised area of the room. And there, on the mantle of a fireplace was a boy.

Cabanela took the steps three at a time and quickly found what had the boy huddled in such a place. A large dark scorpion-like creature clacked its pincers at him from the floor. The boy shivered and the whole building shuddered.

There wasn’t time for this. Lightning crackled along Cabanela’s blade. He jumped forward, plunging his sword into the creature. It jerked and crumpled, twitching, as the lightning sparked through it. He spun back on the boy who shrank back against the wall.

“I-I’m scared.”

“You’re saaafe now. Come on.”

The boy slid off and latched onto his hand. Another tremor shook the floor and Cabanela steadied them both. He grinned at the boy.

“Laaast one out is a chocobo egg. Rotten and absolutely stinkin’.”

The boy gave a weak smile, but his grip on Cabanela’s hand tightened. Ah well. At least he couldn’t lose track of him this way and as long as he kept one hand free.

They ran. Down the flight of stairs, through the hall and onto the next flight of stairs to the floor above.

The boy gasped. “Look!” Then squeaked in surprise as the scorpion rolled down the steps past them, stunned by the small bolt of lightning Cabanela flung at it. He didn’t bother looking back to see if the fall finished the job.

They only needed to get up these stairs, past the hall and through the room. They were almost there. They made it to the top when there was an ominous cracking. Without pause, Cabanela spun, scooped the boy up into both arms and flung himself out of the room.

“There’s another one,” the boy moaned.

Cabanela didn’t break stride. He put on a greater burst of speed and made a flying leap over the scorpion. There was the room and there, the door out. He hurtled through it and his momentum carried them several steps away.

He slowed to a halt and spun round, releasing the boy. Jowd dropped down and rolled away into a crouch. The building rumbled and shook and finally gave in, collapsing in on itself in a loud and chaotic mass until finally the dust settled.

“My son!” A woman ran forward.

The boy threw himself at her. “Mama!”

Cabanela barely noticed the exchange, his eyes drawn to Jowd.

Jowd rose to his feet. “Cutting it a bit close,” he said without any hint of concern that he nearly had a house collapse on him.

He looked at Cabanela and it was then Cabanela realized his hood had fallen and his scarf rested in a tangled mess around his neck and shoulders.

“Hm,” Jowd said.

“Jowd!” Cabanela savoured the name. He was here. Here and out of danger and he knew, as he drank in the sight of him, that he would do those days from the island, across the ocean, across the desolate land all over again to repeat this moment.

It wasn’t to last.

There was a gasp from one of the bystanders. “I-it’s him!”

“It can’t be!”

“The Light of Judgment and he’s here!”

“He saved me, mama!”

Cidgeon grimaced. “Looks like we’ve overstayed our welcome. We should talk outside. Jowd, will you come with us?”

Jowd shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

They hurried together away from the fallen house back toward the exit. Cabanela pulled his hood up for what little good it would do now, but smiled as the shouted thank you from the boy reached his ears.

 

They stopped a short distance from the town gate.

“Jowd…”

Cabanela started to step toward him and abruptly stopped himself. No. He’d made the mistake of being too forward once more before. He was better informed now.

Jowd gave him a sardonic smile. “There’s another building to match this world. Couldn’t find a cleaner way to meet?”

Cabanela eyed him. And what exactly did he mean by that? Did he think he was the Jester too, even after that? Could he blame him? It wasn’t the first time his other had tried to play the long game, was it? What would the Jester have done in this situation? Cajole. Sweet talk. Fine, he could play Jowd’s game.

“It’s good to see you tooo, old friend. I don’t beliiieve I was lookin’ for a buttress and yet here you are baby.”

Jowd’s mouth twitched and he focused on Cidgeon. “Are you sure it’s him? It wouldn’t be the first time he’s lied to us.”

“Unless he was building the ugliest monument known to man and casting that Light of Judgment around from a year-long coma, this is Cabanela,” Cidgeon replied calmly.  

Jowd’s glance barely flickered to him. “So you did survive.”

“And not the only one. We…” Cabanela trailed off as Jowd turned his full attention on Cidgeon to speak.

“And I see Lovey-Dove made it,” Jowd said.

Cabanela stared. All right, maybe not looking at him was understandable in all fairness. Rudeness from Jowd was nothing new either. But to interrupt and ignore him completely? That was new and unwelcome.

“I found her injured and did what I could,” Jowd said. “Once she recovered she seemed eager to go. I knew she would want to find you if you were alive, so I passed along a message.”

Cabanela slipped a hand into his pocket. His fingers curled around the scrap of cloth. It made sense, perfectly logical sense. Of course. The important part was that it made it, not necessarily to whom. The real important part was that Jowd was alive and here.

“Have you found anyone else?” Cidgeon asked.

Jowd’s shoulders hunched with a heavy sort of tension; Cabanela resisted another urge.

“No,” he replied. “Have you heard word from anyone?”

“It’s only been me and this fool on an island for the past year.”

“I see. Figaro is missing as well.”

Cabanela’s heart dropped. Vector was one thing, but Figaro as well?

“We’ll fiiind them,” Cabanela cut in smoothly. “Alma, Kamila, everyone, and Figaro too.”

“We just arrived in Albrook a few days ago. Do you know much about the area as it is now?” Cidgeon asked.

Jowd shrugged. “I heard the Serpent’s Trench is above water. Figured I might as well go that way next.”

“We’ll go together,” Cabanela said.

Jowd’s attention remained fixed on Cidgeon, but his expression tightened. His tone, however, remained light, careless even. “Safety in numbers.”

“We’re low on supplies.” Cidgeon said. “I meant to restock in Tzen.”

“I’ll do it,” Jowd said.

“I can take care of it,” Cidgeon said with an unusual hint of firmness. “No one was paying me any attention between the two of you anyway.”

Before either could protest Cidgeon started back to town, only pausing when Lovey-Dove flew off his head to fly over to Cabanela’s shoulder. Cidgeon nodded and then disappeared into town.

Cabanela sat carefully to avoid dislodging Lovey-Dove, but she soon fluttered down into his hands. He gently stroked her head, while shooting glances toward Jowd.

Jowd also sat at a careful distance. He was still, statuesque. He was finally here, but held all the remoteness of a distant mountain peak. Several words rose in Cabanela’s throat—questions, comments, reassurances—only to die there. What could he say?

He coaxed Lovey-Dove onto his knee, so he could have his hands back and set to rearranging his scarf back into its customary position around his shoulders. A mindless task but a small token of normality.

He let Lovey-Dove back into his hands and tucked her in close. She gave him a small reassuring sort of chirp as his glance flickered back toward Jowd.

This wasn’t right, but it wasn’t entirely wrong either. It had been five, six years now since they last properly saw one another. But Jowd hadn’t known that. By the Jester’s own admission—taunting words that turned Cabanela’s stomach—Jowd hadn’t been left alone in that cell. If Jowd thought he really was… Cabanela shook himself. Things would be better this time. They would get better. Let Jowd think what he would; he would show him.

It was a relief when Cidgeon returned and they set to getting organized for the next leg of their journey. Simple practical tasks that, for a brief spell, gave him a feeling of being in sync. A lengthy trip awaited them and despite this broken world and despite the wall between himself and Jowd, Cabanela felt a bloom of hope.

They found one and the others waited.


End file.
